Starlight
by Volcanic Lily
Summary: "Just a thought: have you ever thought about what you want to see first when you get your sight back?" When, not if. "You would think I was silly..." Ted/Amy, future-set.


**Author's Note: I just realized something: I tend to be the initiator of Ted Starling ships. At least, I can't recall a Ted/Reagan story before mine. And now, there's this.**

**Okay, so this is sort of a crackship, I guess- just a random idea I wanted to write. And of course, as you should really know, I LOVE Ian/Amy, and I'm also a shipper of Ted/Reagan (duh). But at the same time, I wanted to do something that's never been done before: Ted/Amy. I've seen a Ned/Amy once before (very well written, too), but never Ted/Amy.**

**So anyway, I hope you enjoy this. I've been working on it off and on for a few weeks now. Hope you like it! :)**

Even five years after the conclusion of the Clue Hunt, three years after the Vespers had been defeated by a united Cahill force, Ted Starling hated Cahill family gatherings with a passion.

It wasn't his family, per se. It wasn't even the fact that he still couldn't see. It was the two of those things together, like they had been stuffed into a blender, and the result was exactly what was happening today.

Everyone knew that he couldn't see, but they seemed to be under the impression that he was deaf, as well. But Ted was painfully aware of their pitying remarks as they passed him. _Painfully_.

"…Oh, poor Ted Starling, still can't see a thing…"

"…And I hear he can't see anything at all, except for light and dark…."

"…Five years later, and he still needs that dog to lead him around. Poor guy…"

It was their pity that aggravated him most of all. No one ever talked about his intellect anymore, his brilliant inventions or his genius IQ. It was just "poor Ted.," "poor, blind Ted."

So that was the reason why he always drifted off to himself at these gatherings, to avoid their condescending sympathy. Instead, he sat with his back to a large tree- oak, judging from the scattering of acorns around his feet- in the Cahills' backyard, with Flamsteed by his side. At least his guide dog wasn't able to comment on his pity for him.

The sun beat down on Ted's face; he could still see the glaring light with clarity. He rather wished he couldn't. He was about to put a hand up to shield his eyes when a shape suddenly intervened between himself and the sun.

The voice was a girl's: gentle, easy on the ears. "Hey, boy. Hey, buddy. You're a good boy, aren't you? Good dog."

The sound of Flamsteed's tail thumping on the brittle blades of grass pricked Ted's ears. She was talking to his dog, of course. (Well, who else?) And from the way Flamsteed was thumping his foot, she must have been scratching that spot behind his ears, as well.

Suddenly, the sound stopped. "Oh," the voice said, "I'm sorry. You're supposed to ask the owner before you pet a guide dog, aren't you? I wasn't trying to… Sorry. Can I?"

Her voice was familiar in its nervous, sheepish laughter. He couldn't quite put his finger on the speaker's identity, though. "Sure," he said slowly.

"What's his name?"

"Flamsteed."

"That's an interesting name," she said. "Where does it come from?"

He smiled slightly. He loved that question. "He's named after John Flamsteed, who created one of the greatest star catalogues in the eighteenth century. He listed the stars in order of their position within the boundaries of the constellations by their longitude in correlation to the earth, and…" He trailed off. "I'm sorry. I'm probably boring you to death, aren't I?"

"No, that's actually cool. I mean, most people just name their dogs things like 'Spot' or 'Rover.' My brother wants to get a puppy and name it 'Buffy,' but… that's a long story." She paused. When the sound of her voice beside him resumed, she still sounded embarrassed. "Oh… Um, sorry, I wasn't thinking- this is Amy, by the way. Amy Cahill."

There it was: that note of pity that was present in every voice he had heard that day. It brought a scowl to his face. _Of course. Feel sorry for the blind boy, just like everyone else_.

"What's wrong?" asked Amy. The pity was still there, now joined by concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said bluntly. "I know it's hard to believe- after all, 'poor Ted can't see; therefore, he's nothing but a useless vegetable now' and that whole mindset- but I'm perfectly fine, really."

His words came out more sharply than he had anticipated, all the built-up frustration of the day all pouring out like pointed thorns in Amy's direction. Her flinch was almost audible.

"I-I'm sorry," she said again. Her stutter was back- he hadn't heard her stutter in years. "I didn't mean to… I wasn't trying to insult you. I just meant…"

She trailed off, leaving a heavy silence lingering in the hot summer air. Then, she sat down on the grass beside him, on the other side of Flamsteed. The dog's leg began thumping again- she must have resumed petting his head.

"I'm really sorry. I guess that was kind of insensitive of me."

"No, not really. It was just the straw that broke the camel's back, I guess. It's okay, honestly."

She paused for a moment. "It must get annoying after a while," she said quietly, "Having everyone look at you differently now."

He nodded, one hand drifting from his lap into Flamsteed's matted fur. "You have no idea."

They sat there without speaking for a minute, the only sound being made by Flamsteed's tail and leg thudding against the grass. Then, Amy said, "Ted, you don't have to answer this if you don't want to- and I'm sorry if this is too prying of me- but… what's it like? To be blind?"

Ted heaved a sigh, so quiet she might have mistaken it for the sound of a faint summer breeze. "Well," he answered slowly, "It's… different, that's for sure. Suddenly, you're in a whole different world that's dark and shapeless. And there's no color- just light and shadow. It's like you just wake up one day and _bam_! Suddenly, you can't see anything anymore."

"That's awful."

He shrugged. "You get used to it eventually."

"I don't think I would ever completely get used to it," she said. "It would be terrible. I couldn't see the sunset anymore, or my family. I couldn't read…."

Ted gave a wry laugh. "Well, my mom used to tell me that, if I kept reading so much, I'd go blind someday. She was just kidding, but… here I am."

"I'm sorry…."

He rubbed circles in Flamsteed's fur and smiled in the direction of her voice. "You don't have to keep saying you're sorry. Like I said, you get used to it. And," he added, "Now, it's like my other senses are supercharged. My hearing in particular has gotten a lot better." He laughed. "Ned definitely can't sneak up on me anymore."

Amy laughed lightly. The sound reminded him of wind chimes, for some odd reason. "At least that's good."

Then his hand accidentally brushed up against hers, and it seemed as if everything suddenly froze: the breeze, Flamsteed's tail, perhaps even his heart for a millisecond or two.

Amy quickly withdrew her hand. "I-I'm sorry."

And Ted smiled. "All right, your apologies are really getting old now."

/

"Come on, Ted, it's Thanksgiving. Why don't you and Ned just stay with me for the week at the Cahills'?"

"I don't want to intrude, Sinead…."

"Come on, it's not intruding. Amy already said she would love it if the two of you came. She's already decorated the entire house. And I'm sure Dan will be so busy making sure that my boyfriend pays absolutely no attention to me whatsoever that he won't even notice if you're there or not."

Ted raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think it's weird how Hamilton's best friend is a sixteen-year-old kid who still thinks he's a ninja?"

She laughed. "A little. But no changing the subject, Ted. Are you coming, or not?"

It took a moment's thought, during which time his mind flashed back for some reason to that summer, sitting under the oak tree at the Cahill gathering with Amy Cahill. And in that instant, he made up his mind.

"Sure. Why not?"

And that was why he was now sitting in the front passenger seat of Ned's car, with Flamsteed in his lap, resting his chin on one hand as he said, "I'm still not one hundred percent comfortable with you driving."

"Come on," Ned said, "You know the doctors said I'm fully cured now. There's no risk of me suddenly getting a killer migraine and running off the road or anything like that."

_Lucky_. He didn't say it out loud, but he still felt the spurt of envy. The doctors had been able to cure Ned of his headaches; he hadn't had a really bad one in over a year. So why couldn't they give Ted his sight back?

_Oh, well. I guess that's somewhat my own fault_.

The car came to a stop. "We're here," announced Ned. "Hey, look, there's Sinead, coming to meet us."

"_Hey, look_." What an excellent choice in wording.

Soon, amidst a barrage of hugs and details about Sinead's newest invention, Ted and Ned (and Flamsteed, naturally) were swept inside the main house. Ted wished he could see it, because he was sure it had been decorated very well; it certainly _smelled _good- like turkey and dressing and cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. He could hear Flamsteed sniffing the air, as well.

And then, Sinead's voice abruptly stopped in mid-sentence- in the middle of describing her idea for improving the Cahills' air conditioning system, nonetheless- and she said, "Oh, hi, Amy. You look tired. Don't tell me Ham and Dan…"

"Forced me into a game of _Super Smash Brothers_?" came Amy's voice, laughing weakly. "All right, then I won't tell you." When her voice sounded again, it was much closer. "Hey, Ted, Ned. I'm glad you could make it…. Oh, and hello to you, too, Flamsteed."

Flamsteed's tail whacked against Ted's legs as he wagged it happily. Amy was scratching him behind the ears again. Then came the sound of footsteps, and Hamilton and Dan came charging into the room, the latter with a declaration of, "I smell food!" And thus began Thanksgiving dinner.

Amidst complaints from two certain blonde boys, Amy suggested minutes later as the six sat around the table, "Before we eat, I think that maybe we should go around the table and list something that we're thankful for. Who wants to go first?"

"I will," came her brother's voice, audibly irritated. "Here: I'm thankful for the food on my plate, which I'm really hoping to actually get to eat sometime soon."

"Seconded," said Hamilton.

Sinead groaned. "Well, I'm thankful that my brothers got to be here."

"Aw, thanks, Sin. I'm touched," said Ned. "My turn. I'm thankful for… my driver's license!" He laughed.

"Dude, you got your license?" Dan exclaimed. "Sweet. Me, too!" He flashed his own driver's license proudly.

"We're doomed," Sinead groaned, half laughing, half serious.

Ted's turn. He paused for a moment. "Well, I'm thankful for Flamsteed, and for being invited over here for Thanksgiving. Thanks for having us…."

"No problem," came Amy's voice from his left. "I'm thankful for being here with all of you. For Dan, for being the best- and worst- younger brother I have. And Hamilton, for beating Dan after he destroyed me in _Super Smash Brothers_." She and Hamilton laughed. "And Sinead, for souping up our air conditioning system after you've been talking about doing it forever."

"Well, I got sidetracked for a while by increasing the efficiency of the lighting system," said Sinead, to a groan from Dan.

"And," Amy went on, "I'm thankful that Ted and Ned got to be here with us." This was delivered along with a pat on Ted's back. She added laughingly, "And Flamsteed, of course. Oh, poor thing- you look hungry! Here, you can have some of my turkey, boy…."

Dan's laughter mingled with the sound of Flamsteed's grateful chewing. "And Flamsteed's thankful for Amy's table scraps," he said gleefully.

Hamilton's booming chuckles joined Dan's. "Ted, I think Amy just fell in love with your dog."

"Well," said Amy in a sheepish coo as she ruffled Flamsteed's fur, "He's a very good boy. Aren't you, Flamsteed, aren't you?"

/

It was the next day: Black Friday, and Sinead was up before the crack of dawn, hoping to get her hands on a new toolkit. Ned had gone with her, "to try and keep her from getting mauled by crazed shoppers." Dan and Hamilton, still full-stomached from the previous evening's monumental meal, were playing video games again, and so, Ted found himself leaning back against that big old oak tree in the Cahills' expansive backyard again, with Flamsteed dozing by his side.

He was half-asleep himself, the warm sun lulling him into a stupor, and so, he was surprised to hear the sound of approaching footsteps, accompanied by a now-familiar voice inquiring, "Mind if I sit down?"

Amy. "Nah," said Ted, "That's fine."

He felt Amy sit down on his other side with a sigh. "It feels nice out here, for the end of November," she said. And seconds later, "I have never understood Black Friday. I've heard of people getting hurt and even killed, just for a few silly items." She paused, and upon speaking again, her voice was wry. "Not so much unlike the Clue Hunt, when you think about it."

Ted nodded. His fingers unconsciously traced the scars along the sides of his arms. "Just for a few silly items," he repeated.

She fell silent again- it was a heavy silence. Then, she said in a tentative voice that caused a sudden onslaught of déjà vu, "You don't have to answer this if you don't want to…."

"Go on," he said with a slight shrug.

"Well, I…" She sounded embarrassed abut her curiosity. He smiled slightly at that. Curiosity was nothing to be ashamed of- how else did you learn things other than through asking the right questions?

"Go on," he repeated.

Next to him, Amy inhaled deeply. "I was just wondering," she began again, "Um, well, about Ned. I hear he hasn't had one of his migraines in over a year now, that the doctors were able to cure him."

Ted felt his expression sink down into a scowl. Another thing he heard far too frequently: "Ned" this, "Ned" that, "how wonderful- the doctors cured Ned!" It wasn't that he was bitter about it- again, it was partially his own fault- but did everyone have to "ooh" and "ah" over it so often?

Amy must have spotted his expression, because she hastily added, "But that's not what I was going to ask about. I was wondering: if they could cure him so completely, why couldn't they…? Well, you know… Why couldn't they…?"

"Fix my sight?" he supplied, pressing his lips together in a wry expression. "Oh, they probably could have. If I had been as persistent as Ned."

"What do you mean?" asked Amy.

He trailed a hand absently across Flamsteed's head as the dog slept. "Ned was after the doctors for years to perform the surgeries. He spent every moment when he wasn't having one of his headaches researching the topic, drawing up diagrams to improve upon old surgical methods, everything. He was a little too pushy, even. But look at him now."

She gave an agreeing "m-hmmm." "No headaches in over a year, a driver's license- he's done well for himself." She stopped. "But what about you? I remember after the gauntlet, even just after the Vesper attacks… Sinead said you were just as determined as him to figure out a cure. What happened, Ted?"

"I guess I just lost hope. After a while- after two attempted surgeries that yielded no results- I just figured that it was hopeless. That nothing was ever going to give me my sight back." Ted heaved a sigh. "That I was going to be like this, blind, forever. I figured there was no point in trying anymore."

"Ted." Amy's voice was full of emotion now, and he wasn't sure why. Why should she even care? It wasn't she who was blind. "There's always a point in trying. Would we have defeated the Vespers if we gave up after a few bumps in the road? Would we have united the Cahills?"

"Well," he pointed out, "There are still some inter-branch fights…."

"Little spats compared to what once was," she said. And another question- this one, he assumed, with a look past him at his slumbering guide dog: "Would John Flamsteed have ever finished his great star catalog if he gave up the second he hit a rough spot?"

"Well, no," Ted conceded.

Amy's voice sounded satisfied, even determined, as she said, "Good. Now, you're going to get back to work on those plans for a cure. Sinead can help you." She laid a slim hand on his shoulder; he could feel its warmth even through the thick fabric of his sweater. "And I will, too."

/

Ted stayed with the Cahills, even when Ned and Hamilton both departed after the holidays were over. For the next several weeks, he, his sister, and Amy worked together on new diagrams to assist in recovering his sight. Ted and Sinead put forth ideas, and Sinead drew the sketches out.

Amy wasn't much help in this regard, and she sometimes lamented that she was of no use to the project whatsoever, but in Ted's mind, she was, really. Even if it was only the warmth that her presence seemed to bring to Sinead's lab.

He and Amy became good friends. They spent much of their time, when Amy wasn't attending classes at the local college, just talking. She was forever encouraging to him, and she never seemed to find what Dan called his "Ekat technobabble" to be boring. And Flamsteed adored her. Perhaps Ted did, as well.

Sinead certainly thought so, as she confronted him, point-blank, about it one afternoon, while Amy was off at college. "You like Amy, don't you?"

His response had been instant: "Well, of course I do. Who wouldn't like her?"

Even if he couldn't see her, he could tell by his sister's tone of voice and exasperated sigh that she was rolling her eyes at him. "You know what I mean, Ted. You _like_ her."

A bit less immediate this time. "What?"

Another almost audible eye-roll. "Don't play dumb. Your IQ is as high as mine; you know what I'm talking about. You've fallen for her, haven't you?"

Well, there was no more feigning he didn't understand the meaning of her words. It was rather unmistakable- rather like the blood rising up into his cheeks. But even if he couldn't ignore that, he at least opted to ignore Sinead's question. "I think Flamsteed needs to go for a walk," he said as a means of excusing himself from the room.

Flamsteed gave a bewildered whine but led the way outside. Ted ignored his sister as she called after him, "You have! I can tell!"

Was it so obvious to her? Because it hadn't been so obvious to him until she had pointed it out. Yet now, he could see it clearly- which was more than he could say for anything else.

/

It was strange, Ted thought, to be in love with someone you couldn't even see. He could hardly even recall what Amy looked like; he hadn't _seen _her since she was fourteen years old. If he thought hard enough, he could bring up a blurry memory of a thin, pale-faced girl with reddish-brown hair, who often kept to herself or clung to her younger brother Dan like he was a security blanket. Unremarkable, he had thought of her back then.

No, that wasn't entirely true. There was one thing that had always struck him about Amy Cahill: her eyes. Bright green and striking, like twin emeralds or pieces of jade, though they and her nose had typically been buried in a book.

He tried to sharpen the focus on these fuzzy images in his head, to see her more clearly, but every time he tried, they just got blurrier. And then, he would sigh. Oh, well. If she looked anything like the way he could see her heart- gentle and kind and full of warmth- she had to be the most beautiful girl on Earth, because the very sound of her voice filled the void before his eyes with the light of glimmering stars.

Amy had given him hope that he would someday be able to see again. And he knew the very first thing he wanted to see.

/

It was the day after Christmas when it happened. They were again working in Sinead's lab on ideas for the cure, while the lab's owner was nowhere to be found. Amy gave a soft sigh that was also half yawn, then asked, "Hey, Ted. Just a thought: have you ever thought about what you want to see first when you get your sight back?"

"When," not "if." He found himself smiling. Honestly, he thought about it a lot; the answer was always the same. But he forced a nonchalant shrug out of his shoulders.

"You're smiling," she said. "So you do have some idea?"

"Maybe."

"Well, what is it?"

Ted redirected the subject, shooting it back at her. "What would you want to see?"

She took a moment to ponder. "I don't know…. Probably nature- the night sky. It's so beautiful, I'd hate to be unable to see it." She laughed. "After you can see again, remind me to drag you outside to stargaze."

"Oh, you won't have to drag me," he said.

"So?" Amy prompted. "What about you? What do you want to see?"

It wasn't like him, but Ted felt his cheeks go red. "You would think I was silly…."

He heard her scoot her chair closer, leaning forward intently. She didn't sound more than a few inches away. "I won't, Ted, I promise."

He inwardly cursed the fact that she could be so convincing, when she was barely even trying. "Fine," he said in defeat. "But don't laugh." He swallowed hard. "All right, so the first thing I want to see… is you."

And in an instant, her lips were on his. He was sure he hadn't leaned forward, so it must have been she who initiated it. Surprising, though he wasn't going to complain. On the contrary, he was rather enjoying the moment.

But abruptly, Amy pulled back. When she spoke, there was a stammer in her voice that hadn't been present around him in some time. "I-I-I'm sorry. I, um, don't know what c-came over me. Sorry…"

"Amy, it's fine. I really didn't mind. In fact…" But before he could finish, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps and a door flying shut.

/

Amy avoided him for the next few days. It must have been a difficult feat, as they both resided at the Cahill mansion, but she managed it somehow. It was New Year's Eve, which should have really been a festive occasion, when Ted finally cracked and told his sister what had happened.

To his surprise, Sinead giggled. "And she just ran out?" she said through peals of laughter. "Oh, poor Amy. She must have thought you'd be mad! Though I have no idea why- it's not like everyone but her doesn't know by now."

"So," said Ted uncomfortably, as she was still laughing at him, "What should I do?"

"Do?" she said. "Well, first of all, thank your wonderful sister for booking an appointment with a renowned Los Angelos doctor who's interested in seeing your ideas for your surgery."

"What?" he burst out. Joy suddenly flooded his heart; he was even fairly certain a drop of it came flooding out of his eye, though he hoped not, since his sister was standing right there.

Sinead sounded proud, and he could almost picture the satisfied smirk on her face. "You heard me. He's agreed to see you on the third. If all goes well, he says you could have the surgery done as soon as the fifth."

He felt like jumping up and down like an excited boy. Then, he remembered: "But what do I do about Amy?"

"Well, it's New Year's Eve," said Sinead, now adopting that wise, older-sisterly tone which he hated (she was only four minutes older). "Everyone knows that it's a tradition to kiss the person you like as the New Year arrives."

"I didn't know that."

She breathed an exasperated sigh. "Please tell me you're joking. It is. So it's simple: as the countdown reaches zero, you grab Amy and kiss her."

"But if I can't even see her…"

"She always gets excited when the countdown starts. Trust me, Teddy, you'll be able to tell _exactly _where she is by the sound of her voice."

Simple. Ted hoped so.

/

He held on tight to Flamsteed's harness, so tight he was sure his knuckles were turning white. Sinead was on one side of him as they all stood in front of the television: Sinead, Ted, Ned (who was visiting again), Amy, and Dan. Amy stood on Ted's other side, of course, and he couldn't tell whether she was merely engrossed in the TV or if she was ignoring him. Dan, it appeared, was bouncing around in excitement, chanting, "Just one more minute! Then, it'll be a whole new year! Fifty-seven seconds! Fifty-six!" And so on.

As the countdown reached thirty seconds, Amy joined in. "Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight…"

Sinead gave Ted a gentle nudge in the ribs. "Get ready," she whispered, sounding giddy.

"Twenty-five, twenty-four, twenty-three, twenty-two…"

"It's going to be 2013!" Dan crowed in excitement. Even at sixteen, he still sounded like an overly excited little boy.

Amy, obviously noticing this as well, laughed as she continued counting down, "Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen…"

With each number she counted aloud, Ted grew increasingly nervous. He wasn't sure why, exactly, if she liked him in return. He absently ruffled the fur on Flamsteed's head.

"Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven…"

Now, everyone but Ted joined in the count, their voices upraised with enthusiasm. "Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six!" Sinead gave him another slight nudge. "Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"

Sirens blared from the television, drowning out the sound of Ted's own heartbeat thudding in his ears. "_Zero_!" chorused the others.

Beside him, Amy laughed. "Happy New Y…!"

And it was then that he kissed her, cutting her abruptly off. Or, he ended up kissing one corner of her mouth, which he supposed was pretty good when you considered that he couldn't see her and was only judging location based on sound.

He pulled back with a start when Dan began to shriek, "Ewww! My eyes- how they burn!"

Amy laughed again, more nervously this time. "D-Dan! Shut up!"

From the sound of her voice, Ted could tell that his sister was smiling widely. "Happy New Year."

/

It was the morning of the fifth, sunny but nippy, when Ted accompanied his siblings out to Sinead's car. They were going with him to see Dr. Alvarez, who had decided to go ahead and conduct the surgery that day. He clutched Flamsteed's harness, his ears ringing with an anxious sort of excitement.

"Bye!" Dan's voice called out from the door. "Good luck!"

Amy sidled up to them, reaching down to scratch Flamsteed behind the ears as she asked, the note of concern unmistakable in her voice, "You said it'll be over by tonight for sure, right?"

He nodded. "Right. I'm sure they're going to keep me up there for a few days, though, to monitor me. After all, I am their first guinea pig for this process," he concluded with a wry smile.

Amy leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Well, I'll come and visit you as soon as they'll let me."

"Good. Remember, when I open my eyes, I want you to be the first thing I see."

"That's a promise."

**Author's Note: So again, just a random crackship I wanted to try to write, just to expand my horizons a bit. What did you think? I'd love it if you reviewed! :D**

**~Lily**


End file.
